Salt Water
by ifonly13
Summary: "The cure for anything is salt water - sweat, tears, or the sea." - Isak Dinesen :: AU, as if the events of 'Always' didn't happen.
1. Chapter 1

_**Salt Water**_

* * *

_Take me to the breaking of a beautiful dawn  
Take me to the place where we came from  
Take me to the end so I can see the start  
There's only one way to mend a broken heart._

_Take me to the place where I don't feel so small  
Take me where I don't need to stand so tall  
Take me to the edge so I can fall apart  
There's only one way to mend a broken heart._

_- Beautiful Dawn, The Wailin' Jennys_

* * *

She's a mess. A complete, total, all-encompassing mess. She thought she was a mess last summer and the fall after it and even these past months in the spring.

But she was wrong.

*Now* she's a mess.

Because someone who was a real mess would show up at his doorstep at nearly two a.m. wearing her pajamas, hair in a tangled, curling ponytail from a quick shower after a run that did nothing to clear her head, sweat still clinging to her skin, holding just her wallet. Normal people didn't do this. At least, not people who had their lives in order.

"Beckett, what're you – " he starts after swinging the door open. He's just as unprepared in soft-worn flannel pants and a loose t-shirt and sleep-rumbled hair.

"I need to leave. Now." There's an edge of desperation in her voice that he can't turn away from. "Please," she adds on a breath.

She watches him hesitate, blinking in confusion. With each moment, she feels the ball of fear and grief in her throat grow. Not on the entire ride over from her apartment did she think he'd refuse her but the sliver of doubt creeps under her skin as she searches his eyes.

"Uh, okay." He steps back, nodding his head into the apartment. "Let me grab some things and we can go…"

Castle disappears into his bedroom leaving her in the front hallway. The loft is bathed in soft moonlight, barely peeking through the skyline of SoHo, and she can make out the glow of the lightsabers he hadn't turned off tossed onto the couch in the living room. It makes her smile, a subtle turn of her lips, as she turns her wallet over in her hands.

"Where are we going exactly?"

She spins around, finding him in the shadows. Dressed now, in jeans and a dark sweater, holding a small bag in one hand. "I don't know," she sighs. "Somewhere not here. I don't really care where."

"You got any bags or anything?"

"No. I just…" She takes a shuddering breath, moving back toward the door. "I need to leave the city."

He drops the duffel in the doorway, heading into the kitchen. "Let me leave Alexis and Mother a note." Castle scribbles something onto a piece of paper ripped from a magnetic notepad on the fridge, sliding it to the center of the kitchen counter. "No idea where you need to be?"

"Not a clue. Away."

Castle snags a key ring from a board of miniature hooks over the entryway table. "Okay. Come on, Beckett."

She's quiet as he presses the button for the garage of the building, leaning into the corner of the elevator with her eyes closed. Kate can feel his eyes on her, studying her for a hint of what's wrong. Too busy trying to hold herself together with masking tape and a prayer to care about him hovering.

He takes her wrist, gently circling the thin bone and skin, and pulls her toward the left. "This way," he says softly, voice echoing anyway in the cement garage.

It's not the Ferrari but a charcoal grey sedan that he steers her toward. She's thankful for the unobtrusive car as she opens the passenger door and slips into the seat. The leather is warm against her thighs and back and feet as she curls her knees up toward her chest. Kate rests her cheek on the top of her knee, watching as Castle starts the car and pulls out of the spot.

"Where're we going?" she murmurs, eyes drifting shut as her body moves towards shutting down from the weight of her emotions.

"Out of the city," he answers, leaving the radio on the classical channel, playing a menuett Bach's G major cello suite. He glances over at her and she can tell he wants to touch her, to brush her hair back from curtaining her eyes. "Go to sleep, Kate."

"Can't." Won't.

She fights off sleep for the first two hours, staring out the windows of the sedan as the skyscrapers and graffiti'ed buildings of Manhattan fade into family homes of the suburbs before seeing signs pointing the way to the beaches. Then her feet slide off the seat and she curls into the side of the seat, head on the door. Giving into fatigue.

Her eyes open when the quiet rumbling of the engine below her feet cuts off. The gravel of the driveway crunches under his shoes as he rounds the car, opening her door.

"You good to walk or do I need to carry you?"

"No, I'm okay," she says, taking his hand to get out of the seat. "Is this…?"

"Welcome to the Hamptons, Kate." His voice is muffled as he ducks back into the car for his duffel.

The house is white with pale blue shutters. She can see the porch out back, the same one he showed her a photo of years ago when he tried to convince her to come out here for the summer. It's not as big as she thought it would be; it blends in with the neighboring houses in a way she didn't think he'd settle for. Ocean waves crash on the shore, a dull roar in her ears.

Not a single car horn or siren or yelling pedestrians.

Not a single memory of days in the park or Temptation Lane reruns on the couch or too many murder cases.

Good. It's good.

"Let's go inside," Castle says, placing a hand on the small of her back and guiding her across the driveway to the front door.

She toes off the ballet flats in the entranceway, trying not to gawk. A wide staircase curves up to her left, leaving the right open in a living room. There's a gathering of couches and arm chairs around a fireplace, a wall of bookshelves. A set of French doors leads out to the porch, the sun peeking in the corner of the glass, shimmering along the waves of the Atlantic Ocean.

"I don't know what you want to do but, I mean, there's probably some food in the kitchen if you wanted to eat even though it's, like, five in the morning," he rambles, moving past her into the living room and tossing the bag onto one of the tan couches.

Kate pulls the sleeves of the hoodie down over her palms, sneaking her pinkie into the hole in the cuff. Her toes curl against the soft carpet, eyes not meeting his over the distance. "I don't…"

"I know. You don't know what you want. But whenever you figure it out, you've got it."

The tears that she had been holding back push at her lids but she keeps them at bay. That sweet, caring man. "Thank you, Castle." He shifts, heading toward the stairs but Kate catches his arm. "Seriously." She boosts up on her toetips and brushes a kiss over his cheek. "Thank you."

Castle goes upstairs and Kate walks out onto the porch. The breeze tugs at her hair and she can taste the salt in the air. There's a swinging bench on the right, twin Adirondack chairs facing the shore on the other side of the deck. Barefoot, the grass scratches at the arches of her feet as she wanders out onto the lawn that dips down to the beach. But she doesn't step into the sand, staying on the edge with the shrubs. There are little pink flowers spotting the neutrals of the reeds and she leans forward to pick one from the thin branch. Crossing her arms over her knees, Kate rests her chin on her forearms, the pink flower twirling between her fingers.

The sun is turning the water red and gold. She wants to dip her toes into the colors, let them seep into her skin and warm her from the inside out.

She turns her head enough to see the porch. He's sitting on the swinging bench, head tilted to the side. Watching over her. Usually the white-knight complex annoys her. In him, it's comforting, like pulling her favorite blanket around her shoulders and knowing nothing can get to her through the soft fabric.

So this is good. It's okay.

Even if she's not either of those yet.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Salt Water**_

* * *

_Take me where love isn't up for sale  
Take me where our hearts are not so frail  
Take me where the fire still owns its spark  
There's only one way to mend a broken heart._

_Teach me how to see when I close my eyes  
Teach me to forgive and to apologize  
Show me how to love in the darkest dark  
There's only one way to mend a broken heart._

_- Beautiful Dawn, The Wailin' Jennys_

* * *

They stay that way – her out on the edge of the lawn, he on the porch – for an hour. She starts to shiver without noticing it, the sweatshirt doing nothing to block out the ocean breeze.

"You're cold."

She starts, nearly falling to the side, when his voice rumbles next to her. He has a hand held down to her, a small smile on his face. "I'm fine," she says, shaking her head and stretching her feet out in front of her. The reeds scratch her calves.

"Kate," he says, crouching down next to her. "Can we make a bargain here?" She nods once, facing the waves instead of him. "You promise not to lie, I'll promise not to push, okay?" He holds his breath, waiting for the inevitable "no" from her.

But instead, there's a quiet "Sure" as she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"So let's start again." His lips turn up in a crooked smile, one that wavers a little even as he speaks. "You're cold."

Kate takes his hand, letting him pull her up to her feet. "Kinda."

"Let's go inside then."

She hesitates, looking back at the ocean, toes curling into the grass. She wants to stay; he can tell from her body language. But he gives her a tug back toward the house. "Come on. The ocean will still be here when the temperature warms up."

He lets go of her hand when they walk back. Kate has her arms crossed over her chest, elbows cupped in her hands, only the tips of her fingers visible in the sleeves. Castle stays a few feet behind her, watching as her back curves, as if a weight on her shoulders increases with every step toward the back porch. She stumbles, foot catching on one of the steps and he runs forward to catch her waist.

"Careful," he says gently, letting her go as soon as her feet are back under her.

"Thanks," she mumbles, pushing her hair back behind her shoulder as she looks back at him. "I…"

He places a finger over her lips, silencing her. "Kate, another thing. No more 'thank you's or apologies. I already know."

She smiles and the movement warms him, heat zipping down to his toes from his fingertip. The first smile in a long, long time from her to him. "You a mind reader now, Castle?"

"I am," he replies confidently, moving around her to open the door and waving his arm into the living room. "So be careful what you think around me."

"And just how big is the radius of your telepathic powers?" Her fingers trail over the back of a sofa and oh, he wishes he could see her face for this. Could see the way her eyes crinkle in amusement – he hopes – and her lips turn up into a smile, one of those close-lipped ones that make her look mysterious.

"Oh, quite large. I'd try not think anything negative about me while in this house, actually."

She turns, resting the small of her back on the couch. "Ah. I'll keep that in mind then."

The grin isn't as bright as he likes and her eyes still look sadder, though not as dull as they were four hours ago back at his loft. That's good. "Do you want something to eat? I think I have the makings for… Well, I don't know what I have here." He heads into the kitchen, opening the fridge and studying the contents. Not much. He hasn't been out here since two summers ago and the pickings are slim. "Uh, I've got iced tea and…" he trails off, pulling open cabinets. "And PopTarts."

"A real gourmet meal."

When he turns, she's closer, leaning on the breakfast bar, a leg wrapped around one of the stools.

"I'm fine. But you're tired," she says quietly, looking down at her fingers rather than at his face. "Go to bed."

"You're tired, too," he observes, stepping closer and tipping her face up, thumb skimming over her cheekbone. She's shaking, vibrating with some sort of nervous energy, but she meets his eyes, gaze steady. "There's a guest room upstairs, across the hall from the bathroom. It's yours, for however long you need it."

Kate pulls away, going back toward the living area. "I'm okay for now. I'll crash later." She flashes another sad smile over her shoulder at him. "Years of little to no sleep in a night." Before he can even think to open his mouth, she shakes her head. "I'm sure. Go sleep, Castle."

He walks through the hallway, stopping at the foot of the stairs, and looking back. She's still at the couch, hands curled around the throw blanket on the top of the cushions. Eyes closed, head down, her shoulders slumped. He can see her breathing, short and deep. He wants to wrap her up in that blanket, keep her safe with him. Protect her.

But it would drive her crazy.

So he takes the first step, then the second one. With the promise to himself to check on her later.

* * *

"Castle?"

The muffled whispering of his name rouses him faster than his alarm clock ever could. He pushes up off the pillow, rolling over to see her blurry outline on the other side of the bed. The clock on the side table flashes 8:37. "Kate? What's wrong?"

A sniffle and her hands twist in the sleeves of the sweatshirt. "I need… Can I just…?"

"Uh, yeah," he says, fighting to get the sleep from his voice. He reaches across the bed, flipping the covers up on the empty side. "You okay?" he asks softly as the mattress dips.

He hears her intake of breath, the start of "yes." Then she stops, shaking her head as she pulls a leg up under her body, sitting back against the pillows and headboard. "No. I'm not."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not yet," she sighs. "Can I lay here?"

Castle finds her eyes in the dim – those blackout curtains really do their job well – and they're shining with those same unshed tears as earlier. He nods, tugging on her fingertips until she slides down into the sheets. He rests his head on his elbow, watching her as she curls in on her side, facing away from him. His fingers itch to touch her, to smooth out the lines of stress still visible under the thick fabric of her sweatshirt. Her hair is a loose, dark spray over the pale blue pillowcase, curling wildly.

He's about to drop back into a dozing nap when she speaks again. "Castle?" He hums in response, blinking at the back of her head. "I'm sorry."

"Kate," he starts, rocking toward her without meaning to.

"No," she says, rolling over and mirroring his posture, head on her forearm. "I need to. I'm sorry. For being a mess and dragging you through all of this with me and…" She breaks off, a hand swiping under her eyes even though she's still holding back the tears. "I'm sorry." Her fingers skate over the cool sheets until they touch his. Just the lightest feathering of skin on skin before she withdraws.

"And I know you said to stop but, thank you. This, being here," Kate murmurs, "it helps."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Salt Water**_

* * *

_Take me where the angels are close on hand  
Take me where the ocean meets the sky and the land  
Show me to the wisdom of the evening star  
There's only one way to mend a broken heart._

_Take me to the place where I feel no shame  
Take me where the courage doesn't need a name  
Learning how to cry is the hardest part  
There's only one way to mend a broken heart._

_- Beautiful Dawn, The Wailin' Jennys_

* * *

She's too hot when she wakes up. Eyes closed, she kicks at the thin sheet still over her hips until it is pooled at the foot of the bed.

Still too warm, even for the Hamptons in the summer in what's sure to be the afternoon by now.

And then she realizes exactly why she feels like she's burning up.

Castle's arms are around her, hugging her close against him. Her head is nestled in the crook of his shoulder, hands curled loosely around the t-shirt he's wearing. Their legs are twisted together.

What scares Kate is that she doesn't really want to move. What she wants is to snuggle closer into his safe embrace and go back to sleep. To hide from the outside world, even if that outside world is just the one that exists right on the other side of the bedroom door. Because his hands are strong against her lower back and her neck and for the first time in days, months, years, she feels protected.

She shifts, trying to untangle them without waking him up.

He mumbles in his sleep, his fingers bending so that he catches the fabric of her shirt. "Stay," he whispers against her forehead, lips barely caressing her skin. "Don't go."

"Not leaving," she says back, just as quietly as she tugs the shirt from his grip. "You're my ride home, remember?"

That seems to still his attempt to keep her against him. Kate slides off the bed, turning to watch as he stretches out, arms diving under the pillows to pull them to his face. It's adorable and she wants to reach out, brush that stray lock of hair back off his temple.

But that would be a mistake. She'd end up back in bed with him, sleeping on the same pillow. Breathing the same salty air. And it would be a mistake. Because she needs to break down and she can't, won't, do it with him curling around her.

So she pads out of the room, closing the door behind her.

She was right. Afternoon sun pours in through the windows facing the ocean, bathing the floor in a pool of light. She's certain that if she steps into it, the light will ripple away from her toes. Still, she skirts the puddles of warmth until she can get to the doors out to the patio.

Kate sits on the beach, close enough to the water that the waves touch her toes with each curl onto land.

A boat move across the horizon, sails catching some invisible breeze to propel it away from the shore. The waves are louder, gulls circling over the sand. Cars driving on the road in front of the house are quiet. So very different from her city. Different but still normal and good and just what she needs.

Her toes dig into the wet sand, pushing it into a little pile in front of her. The water comes back, washing the sand up onto her foot. She starts over, forming a mound again just to have the waves take it away.

An endless cycle.

One that she perpetuates by returning the sand to the same vulnerable position each time. Unprotected against the strength of the ocean.

Like her. Pushing herself into situations until she's washed away. Then returning to those same dangerous places. Oblivious to the cycle.

Not any more though. The one bit of the cycle that constantly shoved her into the line of fire was gone now.

Gone.

Just like her mom is gone. And Montgomery.

And now he's gone. The bastard that took them from her is gone.

She should feel happy, relieved. Something.

Instead, all Kate feels is sad.

The water licks at her toes, sucking the sand beneath them further into the ocean.

"You running away?"

She jumps. He's next to her, lowering himself to the sand so that his thigh is pressed against hers. He's dressed, jeans and a charcoal grey shirt. She's not sure how long she's been sitting here, letting the sun burn off the emptiness left inside her. But her face is hot, certainly sunburnt, and when she looks up, the ball of light has dipped lower in the sky, the rounded bottom touching the water.

"Can't." She waves toward the ocean. "Sorta hit the end of the land here. Nowhere to run to."

"Baby, nowhere to hide," he continues, trying on a smile. It triggers a tiny one on her face as she tips her head onto his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

She tries, she really does, to hold back the sob but it escapes. It's been bubbling in her body for the past day and she's too tired to stop it now. And then he's there, pulling her against his chest so her head is tucked into his neck. "No, Castle…" she manages as she gasps around her tears. "I'm not okay."

It's awkward as he tries to shift her so her head isn't at an angle against his shoulder. Her fingers wind into his shirt, anchoring herself to him. She tangles her legs with his as she pulls herself closer to him, her forehead a hard pressure on his collarbone. And she knows she's adding salty spots of tears to the fabric but just cannot bring herself to care.

Water from the ocean nips at their ankles, soaking the hem of their jeans. His hand cradles the back of her head, twisting gently into her hair, the pads of his fingers soothing over her skull. She sucks in a breath, letting her head tilt into his touch, a low sound in the back of her throat whispering across his exposed skin.

"I'm blubbering on you," she says, lips sliding over his neck as she tries to pull from his grasp.

But he doesn't let her go, tugging her back against him. "Don't care. Let it out, Kate."

"He's dead." She pushes her toes into the water, cleaning the grit from her feet. "The guy who killed my mom. He's dead."

"How do you…?"

"Got a note. In my mailbox," she sniffles, trying to scoot further into him. She feels him tense under her so she brushes a kiss over his Adam's apple, turning the tension into a shiver. "It's over and I don't know what to do." Kate ends on a sigh, one that reveals exactly how exhausted, how confused, how utterly lost she is.

"Kate," he exhales, pulling his hand down through her hair. "What can I do? To help."

She smiles, barely, turning her head up to see him. "You're doing it. Just… be here, with me. Let me fall apart a little so I can put myself back together."

"Work today?"

Shaking her head, she looks out at the ocean, the water creeping closer to their thighs with every wave. "Called in. I've got the weekend off."

He shifts, getting to his feet while pulling her up with him. She sways forward, hitting him in the chest, her hands resting on his upper arms. "Good," he murmurs. His hands hold onto her waist, warm points in the chill of the breeze. "Plenty of time to put you back together again, Humpty Dumpty."

The joke elicits a bubbling laugh from her before she can hide her face in his chest. "I might break down like this a lot."

"Whatever you need. Even if it's just a shoulder to cry on."

The tide sweeps in, washing over their feet and ankles and calves. As it sucks back out into the vast ocean, the infinite blue and grey and green pool, and Castle pulls her even further into his protective bubble, Kate feels part of the grief slide out into the water.

Her heart is still heavy, weighed down.

But with him, it's easier to carry.


End file.
